nostalgia
by Kyoshi7989
Summary: Some people search all their lives for love. Katara doesn’t have to—she’s already found it. Kataang


_nostalgia_**_

* * *

_1.**

The crystals glow green overhead as Katara draws away, lightless candle clutched in one hand and the other intertwined with Aang's.

Katara sees Aang's expression as he watches her; almost as if he wants, _needs_ her to say something.

For a moment, as she rushes along the illuminated path, Katara really wants to explain. _That was so…perfect, Aang. Really it was. More than I ever could have hoped for my very first kiss. But_…she glances at him, behind her, looking a bit confused, but radiating joy.

_But somehow? When I kissed you…it was strange. It was familiar. It reminded me of something._

_And the part that was really scary?_

_For a moment, I almost wanted to call you…_

_Oma._

Katara doesn't _want_ him to be her love; her Oma.

She's afraid; afraid that she'll build a relationship to have it torn apart in the midst of battle by the Firelord she's feared so long.

But most of all, Katara doesn't want to take away their happy endings by chasing after something she's afraid to even acknowledge.

Knowing she's weak, Katara continues racing alongside Aang, spewing words of encouragement, yet lacking in where she's needed the most.

Sucking in her breath and closing her eyes, Katara tastes the bitter tang of regret.

_I'm sorry, Aang. I don't want to lose you. Not again.

* * *

_

**2. **

Katara doesn't know what happened.

One moment he's looking up at her, jaw set and a hard expression on his face, and the next moment he's kissing her; _kissing_ her, and she doesn't know what to think.

Aang is kissing her, and all Katara wants to do is yell at him.

_You idiot!_ She wants to scream at him: _You _idiot_, why in Tui's name are you kissing me _now_, when I don't even know if I'll see you again? How could you do this, Aang?_ But she doesn't.

Instead, Katara waits through the kiss, and when he pulls away without saying a thing and _flies off just like that_—well, it makes her want to _smack_ him. It would be different if it was just a playful, laughing peck on Appa; or a big, wet smooch as a thank-you for a gift; or even a long, passionate kiss, like Katara has always dreamed of sharing with the one she loves.

But this? This hard, determined, press of mouth-to-mouth, lips-to-lips, feels like it shouldn't be here. It's his last chance, possible _the_ last chance, and it makes her mad that Aang somehow believes that their possible relationship needs to begin _now_, when everything is uncertain, instead of _later_, when they might have years of golden peace stretching ahead of them.

_Why now, Aang? _Katara bites her lip, and prepares herself for the battle to come. Aang could, might die, and, Aang can't get distracted by her. The fate of a thousand lives is at steak.

She's smart enough to know that no matter how much she contributes to the cause, that no one will ever, ever be worth that.

As Sokka beckons for Katara to come back in the submarine, she decides that it's too dangerous. She can't get involved with Aang or admit to herself that she might return his feelings—at least, not until the battle, and hopefully the war, is good and done with.

Katara sets her jaw hard, and ignores the part of her pointing out that a sacrifice she'd willing to make, is also one she'd rather not.

* * *

**3. **

After the war ends, everything changes.

"We have a meeting with the Earth Kingdom ambassador tomorrow, King Bumi is arriving in two days, and we need to invite Chief Hakoda to Mai and Zuko's wedding—" Katara looks up, barely able to see over the scrolls clutched to her chest. Her fellow Southern Water Tribe officials pause, waiting for a cue; waiting for their leader to take charge once more, as she always does.

But Katara's gaze slowly wanders to the new arrival in the room, a tall, lanky young man with an easy smile. Peeking through his mop of black hair, she can barely discern the tip of a bright, blue arrow—

Dropping her scrolls to the ground, Katara sprints toward him, ready to throw her arms around him and give him a good old hug, just like she used to.

But it doesn't happen like that. One moment, she's running, joyful, and the next—

Katara is tripping, falling, on one of those dropped scrolls; and the second after that—

She's crashed right into Aang, and her mouths been forced onto his, and her hand rests awkwardly on his chest, and _oh, God, she's going to have bruises on her lips_—

Aang is the first to pull away, a stunned expression on his face. "I—I—I don't—" he looks down at her, eyes wide. Breathing irregularly and face flushed, Katara stares back.

After a moment, Aang whips around and tears out the room, leaving Katara with her fingers brushing her tingling lips and feeling oddly as though she's missing something.

* * *

**4.**

It was just a party. Just a party. Nothing more.

"Toph," Katara says, as she watches one of her oldest friends drink her ninth round of sake, "I think I should go now. The World Conference is tomorrow, and don't we want to be well-rested? As is _not_ hung-over?" she is unable to keep an edge of accusation out of her voice.

"Stop bein' such a goody-goody, Sugar Queen," Toph slurs, drunk—although her pricked ears say otherwise. "Aang said—said he'd meet ya in the ha—" she stumbles over the big word. "—hallway." When Katara remains still, and unconvinced, Toph gives her a hard push that sends her stumbling towards the door. "Go! Aang's waiting fer yah!" Toph calls after her, as Katara uncertainly steps into the corridor.

"Aang—?" she voices hesitantly, phrasing it more as a question than anything else. After a moment, someone steps around the corner, calling at the same time, "Katara—?"

For a moment, they simply stare, because they haven't seen each other since _that time_ and God this is awkward—

Then, they hear a jubilant and gleeful, "_Now, Toph_!" and the earth writhes beneath Katara. She falls forward, Aang stepping forward almost reflectively to catch her.

They stare at each other for a moment, and Katara doesn't know what the hell she's doing, but her arms are coming up and wrapping around Aang's neck and pulling him to her, and then they're lips are colliding in a breathless gulp of air.

Refreshing (like rain on a hot day)—

Energizing (she could run a marathon)—

Awakening (Katara has never felt so alive)—

And so many others—

But somehow, here they are, in the middle of one huge trap set up by Sokka and Toph, and she wants to keep on kissing him, but—

But Aang must think he's taking advantage of her or something, because he pulls away, breathless and guilt shining in his grey eyes (and God Katara doesn't want this to stop).

Aang is the perfect gentleman. He carries her bridal-style to her room, making sure that she is tucked in before smiling down at from the threshold for a moment, then closing the door behind him.

Aang is the perfect gentleman—

And Katara has never hated him more for it.

* * *

**5.**

"Do you think—" she drew in a breath, and let it out again. "Do you think—that there's something out there, Aang? Something—somewhere—do you think that there's meaning? Or do you think that we're just—here?"

Aang looks at her, oddly serious; then cranes his head back to look at the star-sprinkled sky. "I don't know, Katara," he says, honestly. There is a pause. Then, "Katara?"

"Yes, Aang?" The grass tickles her nose as a gust of wind blows across the hill, smelling of autumn and rain and times gone by.

"Do _you_ think that there's something out there?"

Katara glances at him, surprised. Exhaling, she answers softly, "I hope, Aang. I hope."

"Katara?" Aang whispers it softly, as if it were a mantra, a song; a prayer to the heavens.

Heart beating rapidly, Katara turns her head to face him in the grass, suddenly realizing that _this is now_ and _this is perfect_.

Then, he's kissing her, and it's not the final resort. It's not the last chance. It's not accidental, and it's not a trap.

Her. And Aang. Under the stars, and kissing like there's no tomorrow.

Katara really thinks she could get used to this.

* * *

Credit goes to _illusioned_ for the idea of five kisses. But I have to admit, I LOVED writing this. 'Specially the last one. 'Twas very fun to write angst, humor, and fluff, all in one fic. Please tell me what you thought of it. (Constructive criticism is welcome, too!) 


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